


don't pull your punches

by aliaaaaaa



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Caring Web, Kinda fluff, Lieb Loves to Fight Too Much, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-07-18 09:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7308553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aliaaaaaa/pseuds/aliaaaaaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieb who never subscribed to the wisdom of walking away from any fight, Lieb who always, <i>always</i> getting into fights; his knuckles torn and bloodied, Lieb who sported split lips and black eyes like they were trophies.</p><p>And Web who cared for Lieb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't pull your punches

**Author's Note:**

> because the idea of [Lieb](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/146395914462/listen-web-and-lieb-pre-relationship-day-where) loves to [fight](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/146136705562/this-is-my-favourite-own-headcanon-about-web-and) keeps bugging me, thus this happens.

When he heard the incessant knocking on the door at half past one in the morning --rousing him from his sleep-- Web knew he wouldn’t like what he was about to see at the other side of the door. Sure enough when he opened it, Lieb was leaning against the threshold; his usually carefully coiffed hair was in disarray, his white shirt dirty; yet with swollen split lips he still managed a smirk. The bruise on his jaw already darkening and his hand--

\--the knuckles were bloodied, red and angry unlike the person standing in front of him; looking exhausted and about to collapse.

“Web,” Lieb greeted somewhat teasingly, dragging his name a bit too forcefully, grinding down the _E_ as if he was having a difficult time to breathe.

He pulled Lieb inside, his fingers clasped around the bony wrist firmly as if he was afraid Lieb would bolt out. But Lieb followed willingly without protest when Web maneuvered them into the small bathroom. He patted the sink counter and Lieb, --struggling a bit-- sat on it; swinging his legs back and forth like a child as Web retrieved the first aid kit from the sink; trying to remember what Roe had said about cleaning the wound with antiseptic before tending to it.

Lieb hissed when the cotton touched his split lip, and narrowed his eyes at Web who just raised an eyebrow in reply but he worked on the cut gently.

_How did it come to this?_

Web wasn’t one for fighting.

He didn’t like violence and very rarely engaged in fist-fight, preferring to take a step back and let the insult rolled over him as he walked away. It wasn’t because he was a coward, it wasn’t because he couldn’t pack a punch, he had his fair share of being involved in fights where he unhinged some fucker’s jaw with his mean left hook while Nix cheered for him at the back.

He tended to choose his battle.

Unlike Liebgott.

Lieb who never subscribed to the wisdom of walking away from any fight, Lieb who always, _always_ getting into fights; his knuckles torn and bloodied, Lieb who sported split lips and black eyes like they were trophies.

It was as if fighting was the only thing that Lieb was born to do in this world. It was as if he couldn’t go a week without acquiring new scars and new bruises to parade proudly for the world to see; grinning when someone asked about them and laughing as he retold the tale of what had happened because he was once again undefeated even when his pretty face was marred with cuts and bruises.

Webster found himself intrigued by Liebgott; by the careless way he smiled, how his split lips curled up into a smirk when Lieb’s eyes flitted to Web. By the way his brown eyes turned soft and oddly seducing at the same time in the weak sunlight when Web smiled back at him, shaking his head because Lieb looked like a walking after school special. By the cocky way Lieb carried himself as he swaggered to Web, asking about his day in a teasing tone, “You look pale. Been holing up in the library too much, nerd?”

Liebgott who was hot-headed and bold, who loved fighting more than anything else and yet, Webster couldn’t help but feel attracted to him, because he was danger, he was an anomaly; something that his uptight parents and his snotty Harvard friends warned him about.

Wanting to know Liebgott stemmed purely out of curiosity; how could someone so skinny have so much anger in them and fought like he was made from iron; not afraid of getting hurt. Yet--

\--when Lieb looked at Web, his eyes turned so soft like they were clouded with adoration.

The infatuation worsened when he was caught in a brawl at the back alley of some obscure bar he always frequented.

Web was smoking outside, waiting for Nix to turn up when he heard voices loud enough to draw him to the alcove, just a few meters away from where he was standing. He saw two guys harassing Luz, calling him a fag and a cocksucker. They got Luz crowded into the corner; brandishing their fists, knocking George’s head and laughed when the small guy shielded his face.

His anger was legendary, a slow burn that blazed into something fiery, burning everything in its trail; and when one of the fuckers swung their fist into George’s jaw and blood bursting out from his nose; Web saw red, as red as the blood on one of the fuckfaces when he jumped unto his back and started to pummel his head with his fist.

It was chaotic, sudden movements and a lot of shouting yet he felt calm like he was untouchable, like everything moved in slow motion.

He knew it wasn’t the adrenaline.

It was him, who found peace in beating up these fuckers. It was him who didn’t like violence yet felt proud upon seeing the blood spilling out from his opponent’s nose, dotting his knuckles.

He knew how Lieb felt; knew how it made him feel invincible, knew how it made him feel like he was the king of the world.

They were anomalies together after all.

In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of him beating up the two guys, George ran inside, yelling for help and when Web was about to get hit in the face, Lieb pulled the guy by the back of his shirt and headbutted him hard in the nose.

When it was over, when they heard the loud police siren coming towards them; Lieb wrapped his fingers around Web’s wrist, pulling him into motion and they ran as fast as they could --leaving the two guys bloodied and battered on the dirty ground; moaning for help-- bursting into loud laughter that shattered the quiet night and when Lieb had looked over at him, he was grinning; his teeth were colored with blood and Web fell in love instantly with this beautiful, dangerous man.

A hiss from Lieb knocked Web off from his nostalgia musing.

“Hurt,” Lieb whined quietly again when Web pressed the q-tip laced with antiseptic into the cut on his lower lip. He grabbed Lieb’s sharp chin gently to stop him from moving and Lieb complied, even though he was wiggling in his place, eager for it to be over.

But Web took his time to clean the wound on Lieb’s knuckles; holding it like it was made of silk and not of iron.

Lieb jerked his hand away when Web pressed the cloth unto the cuts, but Web held on fast; boring his blue eyes into Lieb’s brown.

“Can you be a bit gentle? Hurts like a motherfucker when you do that,” Lieb grumbled, settling once again as Web cleaned the wound with a damp cloth.

“Oh? This hurts? Yet pummeling people with your fist until the skin is torn and bloodied doesn’t?” Web asked, his tone laced with sarcasm.

Lieb rolled his eyes at the scolding and Web felt a surge of fondness at Lieb as he washed the bloody cloth under the running water.

In the too small bathroom, with the sound of car honking from a distance and a drunk man yelling on top of his lungs outside, it felt oddly unnerving to be sitting here with Lieb and it didn’t help when Lieb kept looking at Web, his hair falling over his forehead, obscuring his sharp, knowing eyes yet Web knew they were trained on his face.

To dispel the closing quietness, Web talked. “What on earth happened that got you into this mess?” He asked as he wrapped Lieb’s hand with a clean bandage; careful to tape it gently.

Lieb tilted his head to the side, studying Web’s face, the way his long lashes fanning his cheeks, the way his eyes appeared so blue like the sea when Web looked at him.

Lieb blinked and sighed.

“Someone said something about me being Jewish. Got angry. Decided to remodel his face with my fist.”

Web made a disgruntled sound at that, and Lieb was not sure if it was because someone said something bad about him being Jewish or his way of dealing the matter with his fist.

Knowing Web, probably both.

Lieb licked his lips, and started to arrange the words in his head before they stumbled out from his mouth.

He didn’t know why he was so eager to explain to Web but being close to Web like this made him do unexpected thing.

“I know you don’t like it when I fight. I know you don’t like violence. But I can’t help it. It’s the only way that I know how to deal with loud, obnoxious mouth people,” Lieb explained quietly, cradling his bandaged hand close to his chest as Web looked at him, eyes so blue and bright. He continued talking, “My whole life I got picked on by bullies. For being Jewish, for being too skinny, for liking comic books instead of baseball. I kept quiet at first. Ma said I should be the bigger person. Didn’t say anything when they insulted me. Was a good boy, ya know?”

Lieb paused to smile sardonically, ran his good hand in his hair, musing it even more.

“Then in 4th grade, they insulted my Ma. Said she was whoring herself to put me in school when she was actually working triple shifts at the hospital. It was the first time I hit someone.” Lieb breathed harshly, emotions threatening to break him. He looked at his bandaged hand and continued, “It felt good to lash out like that, Web. It felt good when I punch them. It felt good when they cowered in fear when they saw me walking down the hallway.”

Lieb lifted his head up to look into Web’s eyes and all he saw was serene blue. “I know you think so little about me. You think that I’m uncouth but this is me, Web. I can’t change my way anymore. I tried walking away, you know? But I always turn back because they deserve the pain like their cutting words do to me.”

Web leaned in closer then, sliding his leg in between Lieb’s legs, his hand cradling Lieb’s face gently, tilting it up even more so Web could see Lieb’s soft brown eyes.

“I don’t hate you, Lieb,” Web whispered, his thumb brushing Lieb’s jaw tenderly, pressing on the dent on Lieb’s cheek to get his attention. “I could never hate you. I worry okay? I worry when you got into fights so frequently because I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I’d be devastated if you got hurt.”

Lieb looked into Web’s eyes before he surged up to curl his fingers in Web’s hair and tugged Web’s face down so he could press their lips together.

They kissed like they were fighting, frantic tongues and teeth clashing together and Lieb whimpered low when Web sunk his teeth on Lieb’s split lip and sucked.

Web could taste copper on his tongue as Lieb fought back for dominance, wrapping his legs around Web’s waist, pulling him closer and Web could feel that Lieb was hard against his thigh.

When they pulled apart to breathe, both of them were panting hard; Lieb’s eyes were dark and the cut on his lip had opened up again, blood bubbling out from it.

“Knew you have a crush on me. Knew you like me, Web. Saw it in your eyes--”

Lieb moaned when Web leaned in to lick the blood and before kissing him to shut him up.

Lieb, not one to be upped, pulled Web down again, kissing the chiseled jaw briefly before latching his swollen lips on Web’s neck, nibbling the tender flesh and sucked it until bruise started to form.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful like this,” Lieb whispered when he pulled back to admire his work and Web looked truly stunning with Lieb’s blood smearing on his lips, making them looked more obscenely red and his neck was dotted with bruises from the hickeys Lieb had bestowed.

Web cradled Lieb’s face, kissing him again once, twice before pressing their foreheads together.

“You’re the beautiful one, Lieb. Every part of you even when you’re covered in blood and anger. So beautiful that I won’t ask you to change for anything.”

“Sweet talker,” Lieb teased, nipped Web’s chin before he pressed his face on Web’s chest, brushing his cheek on Web’s soft shirt, his body suddenly felt exhausted after the rush of adrenaline left his system.

Web, sensing that Lieb was about to pass out, carded his fingers gently in Lieb’s hair before coaxing him to get up.

“Don’t wanna. Here is good because you’re warm,” Lieb whined, wrapping his arms around Web’s waist to prevent Web from moving.

“My bed is warmer,” Web answered and Lieb tilted his face up and leered at Web’s words.

“Already want me in your bed huh? Just so you know, I don’t fuck on first date,” Lieb answered back, grinning toothily when Web blushed.

“I-- this _is_ not a date and we won’t be doing anything in my bed other than _sleeping_ , Lieb,” Web spluttered and Lieb laughed.

Then Web leaned in close to whisper next to Lieb’s ear, “Besides, when we _do_ fuck, I want you to be awake so you would remember that I’m the best that you’d ever have.”

Lieb moaned at the words and lightly punched Web’s shoulder which made Web hollered, “No violence!”

“Shut up and take me to your bed, nerd,” Lieb grumbling, letting Web guided him into the bedroom.

When they were both settled next to each other, when Web traced Lieb’s face before kissing his lips gently, Lieb snuggled closer to Web, listening to his heart beating calmly and lulling him into sleep.

They had a lot to talk especially about this recent development of their relationship, but for now, in Web’s warm bed, with Web’s arm holding him, Lieb murmured a _thank you_ before he fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated because I'm proud of this one.
> 
> first posted on [webgottrash](http://webgottrash.tumblr.com/post/146520645722/dont-pull-your-punches)


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